


Get Down Make Love

by MelayneSeahawk



Series: Ineffable Event 2019 [13]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Book Elements, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), M/M, No Heaven/Hell Abductions, Post-Canon, Show Elements, The Author Is Jewish And Back On Her Bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 22:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21278696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelayneSeahawk/pseuds/MelayneSeahawk
Summary: The world didn’t end on Saturday. That was good, all in all, but it had been a very long day, and Aziraphale found he was tired in a way he didn’t usually get. But the threat of retribution from Above and Below was still present, despite Adam’s cryptic statements to the contrary, so he’d gone to Crowley’s flat to drink and strategize and, a little bit, just bask in the demon’s presence. Heaven and Hell already knew about them, and were already furious; there wasn’t any punishment they could administer that would be made worse if they knew he’d spent the night reading pulp science fiction on Crowley’s uncomfortable modern couch, and so for the first time since Eden Aziraphale was able to truly, completely relax.





	Get Down Make Love

**Author's Note:**

> written for [Ineffable Event](https://ineffable-event.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, day seven; prompt: Day of Rest (Free Day)
> 
> I'm Jewish, so Aziraphale honors the Sabbath on Saturday. deal-with-it.gif
> 
> unbetaed, unBrit-picked

The world didn’t end on Saturday. That was good, all in all, but it had been a very long day, and Aziraphale found he was tired in a way he didn’t usually get. But the threat of retribution from Above and Below was still present, despite Adam’s cryptic statements to the contrary, so he’d gone to Crowley’s flat to drink and strategize and, a little bit, just bask in the demon’s presence. Heaven and Hell already knew about them, and were already furious; there wasn’t any punishment they could administer that would be made  _ worse _ if they knew he’d spent the night reading pulp science fiction on Crowley’s uncomfortable modern couch, and so for the first time since Eden Aziraphale was able to truly, completely relax.

Sunday was the first day of the rest of their lives. Like the first day of creation, but somehow infinitely better.

On Sunday, he and Crowley dined at the Ritz and walked in St. James’s Park, tossing rolled oats to the ducks because Aziraphale had read somewhere that bread was actually terrible for them. Crowley had rolled his eyes, but seemed to enjoy tossing small handfuls in exactly the right places in the water to start fights among the gathered waterfowl. Aziraphale couldn’t help his fond smile.

On Monday, Crowley brought tteokbokki and gulbap (Aziraphale still had a fondness for oysters) from the Korean takeaway they liked, and they talked absolute nonsense while they ate. They’d eaten thousands of meals like this over the many, many years, but it felt lighter, somehow. Like the weight of Heaven and Hell’s regard was truly gone. Crowley was open and relaxed, and it warmed Aziraphale’s insides to see it.

On Tuesday, Aziraphale decided it was time to look over the bookshop and fully catalogue the changes Adam had made during its restoration. Crowley grumbled but seemed happy to keep him company, either napping in a sunbeam that fell on a squashy armchair in the stacks, or creeping around between the shelves, reappearing occasionally to ask Aziraphale inane questions. Under his usual nonchalance, Aziraphale could tell Crowley was enjoying reacquainting himself with the bookshop almost as much as he was, and he was reminded quite suddenly of Crowley’s tearful expression when he’d told the discorporated Aziraphale that the shop was gone.

Cataloguing took a few days, interspersed with breaks for meals and tea, but on Friday Aziraphale opened the shop for a few hours, just for the feeling of normalcy that came from watching Crowley glare at customers for him. He realized quite suddenly that the demon had barely left the shop since Monday, disappearing home in the early hours of the morning but coming back in time to bring breakfast, only going out during the day to get them takeaway or more alcohol. And it seemed like he was waiting for something, but Aziraphale couldn’t say what for.

On Saturday, Aziraphale rested for the Sabbath (it had been what was now called Saturday for such a very long time, even if most of Her followers now observed on Sunday, and Aziraphale was nothing if not habitual), keeping the shop closed and settling in with one of his favorite volumes of poetry. He got so caught up that he didn’t even realize that Crowley had not appeared until mid-afternoon, when the demon slammed through the front door and stomped into the backroom, standing in front of Aziraphale with arms akimbo.

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked, looking up at Crowley over his reading glasses.

“What are we doing, angel?” Crowley said, taking off his sunglasses and tossing them haphazardly onto an end table. His eyes practically glowed.

“Right now?”

Crowley sighed in exasperation. “More generally,” he said, closing his eyes and squeezing the bridge of his nose. “You’re happy that Heaven and Hell are no longer breathing down our necks, right?”

“Oh, indubitably,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley rolled his eyes. “We can finally enjoy each other’s company without risking retribution.”

Crowley made a pained sound. “Is that all you want?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Aziraphale said. He saw some emotion flicker across Crowley’s face, indecipherable but one he’d seen before, usually when he thought Aziraphale wasn’t looking.

“I...I’m not good at this,” Crowley admitted, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Talking about...stuff. Emotional stuff,” he added, when Aziraphale’s expression must have betrayed his confusion. “I’m glad to be spending time with you without worrying, angel. But I think it can be more.”

“More?” Aziraphale shivered slightly, old fear of being caught out bubbling up in him before he sternly reminded it that he didn’t have to worry anymore. But Crowley’s expression was intense. And...terribly fond, he realized. “Oh, Crowley,” he breathed, finally putting down his book and holding out his hand. Crowley took it, and Aziraphale used it to pull the demon down into his lap, smiling at the startled noise he made. “I didn’t realize.”

“I didn’t think I was being subtle,” Crowley said sullenly, but he settled himself with his knees on either side of Aziraphale’s waist and his arms around his shoulders.

“I’m too used to holding myself back,” Aziraphale said apologetically, hands on the small of Crowley’s back. Feeling daring, he brushed a fingertip up under the hem of Crowley’s t-shirt, stroking the skin he found there, and Crowley shivered. “From things that I want. From you. It’s barely been a week, I still have to remind myself that I don’t have to anymore.”

“We don’t have to do or be anything you don’t want,” Crowley offered, and Aziraphale felt smug at how breathless he sounded from such a tiny touch. “What we have is...fine, if you don’t want things to change.”

“Oh, but I do, darling,” Aziraphale replied, leaning up to nuzzle into the side of Crowley’s neck, smelling brimstone and spice. Crowley gasped, tightening his grip seemingly involuntarily. “I want that very much. I love you, Crowley.”

Crowley groaned, burying his head in Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Angel,” he said brokenly.

“Let me show you. Please,” Aziraphale added, sliding both hands onto Crowley’s hip and digging his fingers in slightly under the waistband of his tight trousers. Crowley whined and nodded, and Aziraphale shifted one hand to lift Crowley’s head, pulling him into a kiss.

The kiss was soft and almost chaste at first, before Crowley made a sound deep in his throat and brought his hands up to cup Aziraphale’s face, flicking his tongue over the angel’s lips. Aziraphale opened them with a contented sigh, and Crowley dove in kissing him like he had a lot of time to make up for. Which, to be quite honest, was probably true.

Aziraphale dropped his hand back to Crowley’s waist, sliding it up the back of Crowley’s shirt to press flat against his lower back. The skin was cool and slick under his hand, almost like scales, and Aziraphale loved it. Like the forked tongue in his mouth, this was definitive proof he was kissing and touching his demon and no one else. Aziraphale had occasionally engaged in sexual congress with humans, but this was something altogether different: the one being who had been his constant for millennia, who he had known he was in love with for some 80 years, and had probably been falling in love with for centuries before that.

Crowley’s fingers began plucking at his tie, sliding the tartan silk free and reaching for his buttons. Aziraphale pulled back from the kiss just long enough to push Crowley’s jacket from his shoulders and tug his t-shirt and that ridiculous scarf over his head before kissing and nipping at the skin below his jaw, causing Crowley to stutter to a stop, breathing hard. Aziraphale smiled against the skin of his neck and worked his way down, sucking a mark onto one jutting collarbone. Crowley made a guttural sound and his hands flew to Aziraphale’s hair, clearly meaning to hold him in place.

“Let me,” Aziraphale whispered against the damp skin, hands sliding purposefully over his chest and down to his waistband. “Please, love, let me.”

“Angel,” Crowley gasped, fingers tightening. “Bed.”

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale agreed, and with a click of his fingers they were seated on Aziraphale’s bed in the flat upstairs, which he really only had so he could curl up in bed to read at night. He pushed and rolled them over, laying Crowley out on his back on the bed, and went to work liberating him from his very tight trousers, titillated but not surprised to find that Crowley wasn’t wearing pants underneath. He finally managed to free Crowley’s hips, and didn’t even bother to push the trousers further down before taking Crowley’s lovely cock into his mouth.

Crowley shouted, hands fisting in the sheets, and Aziraphale allowed himself a smug upturn of his lips around Crowley’s cock, then focused on learning everything about Crowley’s responses, how he reacted if Aziraphale pressed his tongue here or there or sucked just so. Crowley was noisily appreciative above him, and Aziraphale gleefully memorized every sound and twitch, fingers digging lightly into Crowley’s still-clothed thighs.

Aziraphale had lost track of how long he’d been at work when Crowley brokenly called his name, pressing one hand to his shoulder. “I’m close,” the demon breathed, and Aziraphale sucked all the harder, desperate for Crowley to come down his throat, to be able to taste him. Crowley moaned and bucked his hips once and did just that. Aziraphale held on through his orgasm, mouthing at him gently until Crowley groaned, “Too much,” and pushed him away.

“Beautiful,” Aziraphale said softly, taking in Crowley’s flushed face and sprawled limbs, heavy with afterglow. He settled on his side next to Crowley, petting his chest as he breathed.

“You’re still dressed,” Crowley whined, plucking at Aziraphale’s shirt. “Hell, I’m still dressed.”

“You wear your trousers too tight,” Aziraphale said, kissing him deeply before sitting up to start undoing his own clothes, sending each item to hang in the closet or into the hamper as he removed them.

“You like it,” Crowley drawled, and vanished his trousers, shoes, and socks with a click of his fingers. He reached out, curling his fingers into Aziraphale’s chest hair and tugging slightly. “No idea you had it in you, angel.”

“I have hidden depths,” Aziraphale said primly, and Crowley laughed. Aziraphale sent away the last of his clothes and then waited, slightly apprehensive. Crowley was so beautiful, and he was so...Well. Soft.

“I intend to explore them all,” Crowley said, pressing Aziraphale onto his back and sliding over him, sinuous as always. “Angel.” He dipped his head, clever tongue curling around one of Aziraphale’s nipples. “Tell me what you want. Anything.”

“Do you think you can rise to the occasion again, my dearest?” he asked, and Crowley choked. “I would so love to have you inside me.”

“Anything,” Crowley repeated, breathless. Aziraphale found it funny the way Crowley seemed almost shocked every time the angel took initiative or said something sexual, like he expected Aziraphale to be shy or hesitant when he was finally allowed to have something he’d idly dreamed about for so long. But despite that, he was quick to cup a hand between Aziraphale’s legs, fingertips dipping into the warm wetness gathering in his folds. “Angel, you’re so wet already.”

“Difficult not to be,” Aziraphale said with a pleased sigh, encircling Crowley’s sharp hips with his hands. “Please.”

“Now, now, no need to rush,” Crowley said, with a positively wicked smile, rubbing one fingertip gently but firmly over Aziraphale’s clit. He gasped and bucked, and Crowley’s grin went even wider. “Oh, angel, we’re going to have so much fun together.”

“Get  _ on _ with it,” Aziraphale said, trying to press up into Crowley’s hand. Crowley chuckled. “Tease me next time. I want you inside me  _ now _ .”

Again Crowley stuttered to a stop, but it was barely a moment before he came back, fingers sliding back into Aziraphale’s wetness to spread it over the heated, sensitive skin. Aziraphale moaned, arching his back, and Crowley kissed his neck, bring two careful fingertips to his opening and circling once before pressing them inside.

Aziraphale bucked, urging him to go deeper, and Crowley obliged, pushing in to the knuckles and scissoring his fingers. Aziraphale moaned as Crowley found that spot inside him and rubbed firmly, sending shivers cascading throughout his body. “More, darling, please,” Aziraphale gasped and Crowley pulled back just enough to introduce a third finger, thumb just resting against his clit, other hand on the swell of his hip for balance. Aziraphale surged up into his hands, trying to fuck himself on Crowley’s fingers, but the bastard just rolled his wrist along with Aziraphale’s hips, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“No need to rush, angel,” he said, rewarding Aziraphale with a few thrusts when he managed to keep his hips still.

“Foul tempter,” Aziraphale muttered, and Crowley laughed, rubbing firmly against his clit and making him cry out.

“Are you ready for me?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Aziraphale said, in a fair accidental imitation of Crowley’s own hiss, and the demon smirked, pleased. He pushed Aziraphale’s thick thighs apart so he could lay between them, then removed his hand from Aziraphale’s cunt to take himself in hand and position himself, pressing in with a single smooth thrust. Aziraphale couldn’t help wailing as he slid home, bony hips against his own plush ones.

Crowley was breathing hard in an effort to keep still, one hand tight on Aziraphale’s hip, the other flat against the curve of his belly. “Good?”

“Better than,” Aziraphale said, reaching up to flick a lock of sweaty hair off of Crowley’s forehead. “Move. Please?”

“So demanding,” Crowley said, but he did as he was bid, rolling his supple hips against Aziraphale in small, delicious circles. He brought his hand down to Aziraphale’s mons so he could bring his thumb down onto Aziraphale’s clit, rubbing it in time with his strokes. Aziraphale’s eyes fell shut at the sensation, affectionate nonsense coming from his lips as he lost himself in the pleasure zinging through his body.

Soon enough, Aziraphale could tell he was close, so he reached up and pulled Crowley down into a kiss, sighing against his lips as he came. Crowley’s hips stilled and Aziraphale shook his head. “Keep going,” he said, tightening his legs around Crowley’s waist. “I want more.”

“Greedy,” Crowley said, but he didn’t look like he disapproved in the slightest.

Aziraphale brought his hand down to knock Crowley’s hand away from his clit, needing a moment for that level of overstimulation to wear off. Crowley gripped his hips instead, plowing into him with renewed intensity. “Crowley,” Aziraphale called, and the demon buried his head in his shoulder, gasping. “Come on, my dear.” Aziraphale repositioned his hand between them, thrumming against his clit, feeling himself tense and come again. Crowley moaned his name and came a moment later, stiffening above him before collapsing down onto his chest with a contented sigh.

They lay that way for long moments before Crowley slid free with a groan, clicking his fingers to banish the mess before things got too sticky and uncomfortable. He wound himself around Aziraphale, arms and legs twining, and the angel smiled, utilizing a miracle of his own to bring the sheets and duvet over them. Crowley nuzzled into his shoulder contentedly. “Sleep?”

“There are things we should discuss,” Aziraphale pointed out, but he too could feel the pull of the post-coital desire to sleep. “Logistics, if nothing else.”

“Later, angel,” Crowley mumbled, yawning against his skin. He closed his eyes, and Aziraphale could practically feel him dropping down into sleep.

“As you say,” Aziraphale said, smiling contentedly and letting his own eyes slip closed.

“Love you.”

“And I you, darling. And I you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from a very dirty Queen song of the same name.
> 
> Bread _is_ bad for ducks and other birds, and Aziraphale was probably miserable when he found out.
> 
> Tteokbokki (spicy rice cakes) and gulbap (oysters and radishes with rice) are Korean dishes that I think Aziraphale would adore.
> 
> In Judaism, having sex within a "blessed" relationship on the Sabbath is considered to be a double mitzvah (blessed act). If these two aren't in a blessed union, I don't know who is.
> 
> [reblog link](https://melayneseahawk.tumblr.com/post/188758845319/get-down-make-love-melayneseahawk-good-omens)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://melayneseahawk.tumblr.com/)!


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